Memory Motel: A Rock And Roll Fantasy, Part Three Section Seven: Jagger Of The Flies
Part Three: In The Aftermath
11 – Mick Jagger
I’m not happy being interrupted whoever it might be though I knew who it was, who is it ever,and he has even followed me here to death, to my get away, my time of complete freedom, of nothing but this strange enchanted and wonderful island where I will never grow up. I became younger, nine years old, sullen, childish because I feel childish. I feel like there are rules here and the rule here is I can do what I want and they have broken the rule, first by giving me a dog and now my reuniting me with a man I could happily not see for the next 1,000 years. I am so tired, I am exhausted. It was a great life but a tiring life. And while this is amazing, it isn’t the sort of life poverty stricken children dead from cholera had. Now they are enjoying everything they never had and I am enjoying what I want and what I want is to be alone on this Island wandering free of any concern or worry or anything at all.
I opened the door, this snotty wild boy staring up at three adults, Keith of course, his dad and I didn’t recognize the third person.
Keith pushed his way in, sat at the table, pulled out a bottle of black jack and took a swig and slurred “Ready for one last concert?”
Well, that was simple enough to answer. “I’m not going anywhere at all. I am gonna stay here forever and enjoy the peace and quiet of this wonderful island.”
“So you don’t miss me, mate?” Keith said.
“That your dad? Hello, Mr. Richards. And who is the other guy?”
“My Grandpa, Gus.”
“Please to meet you Gus? Now all three of you fuck off for a hundred or so years and then let’s talk.”
“I can’t do it, son.” Gus said.
“I think you can” and an army of boys, clones of me, surrounded the three of them. “So why don’t you go now?” I asked as the100 little Jaggers crowded closer to the three of them.
“You don’t want to go there, you know. We can all do these parlor tricks, and actually if you stopped acting like a dick, you might figure out hat you are the last person I want to see right now but I have no choice so why don’t you calm down and act your age and not you size.”
The Jaggers came in close and I wondered how Keith would react.
“Let’s go, son.” His dad said.
“We can’t, Dad, we can’t go, he has to hear us out.
“Get out, in any battle of wits I’ll beat you to death, Keith.”
“Surely not to death.”
“We have to go.”
“Too much depends on it, we can’t go.”
And the little Mick’s attacked.
The three were taken completely surprised and were almost down and out, I don’t know what happened when you die in the After Math but I was about to find out. The little jagger’s were like evil sprites, stopping, biting, tearing at the men, and they couldn’t resist them and didn’t try until they were ripped apart and dead and then they weren’t any more. Suddenly they were back in one piece. Apparently, unlike earth, violence wasn’t an answer